The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cindy hadn’t been spanked since Alex had first leashed her.

She’d forgotten how much she loved it.

The first time it happened, she wasn’t even sure what she’d done wrong. Perhaps one of her hairs had been out of place, or she hadn’t finished a glass of water quickly enough. Her mother’s ranting tirades were triggered by the smallest things.

Whatever she’d done, her mother’s eyes had flashed, and Cindy had braced herself, prepared for another torrent of verbal abuse.

She could feel herself growing wet in anticipation.

But instead of the string of insults, her mother had beckoned for her to come closer.

“You know I love you,” she’d said softly, taking Cindy completely off-guard. Typically, her mother would start with a low-grade insult. As she got more and more worked up, the insults would grow more extreme—before long, she’d be screaming at Cindy, calling her a whore, practically frothing at the mouth.

“Uh…”

“Come here,” she’d said, patting the seat next to hers gently. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“O-of course,” Cindy stammered, sitting beside her mother. What was happening?

“But you’re just not learning,” she said. Cindy’s heart was racing. “You’re not learning. I don’t know why. You might just be too stupid.”

This was a familiar train of thought. Calling her daughter a stupid whore, not good for anything but serving men—Cindy would never have imagined these words coming out of her mother’s mouth a few months ago. Now, it felt as normal as ‘how was school, dear?’

“There’s only one thing I can do,” she said gently, and Cindy nodded.

“Yes, mother.”

“Good girl,” she muttered, and Cindy was shocked to find her eyes welling up with tears. She wanted to be a good girl, more than anything. She didn’t know if that was a desire that had been implanted into her by the collar, or if it had always been a part of her. Maybe that was why she’d always craved popularity, the acceptance of her peers.

Perhaps all she’d ever wanted, really, was for people to approve of her.

“Lay down on Mommy’s lap,” the older woman said softly, and Cindy scrambled to obey before she’d even processed what was happening.

Oh, god.

Oh god, no.

SMACK.

Cindy arched her back in pain. She’d thought that her brother’s spankings had been punishing, but her mother wasn’t holding back. Lifting Cindy’s mini-skirt, her hand was meeting the flesh of her daughter’s ass, clearly displayed by the thong she was wearing.

Cindy’s mother truly wanted to discipline her daughter, to teach her to be a better person. And she was completely convinced that it was all her own idea. Why would she hold back?

As Cindy shuddered, arousal and pain coursing through her body, she realized that…in a sense, this was her mother’s way of showing love. She wanted Cindy to improve. She wanted Cindy to stop being such a dirty little slut.

Or perhaps she wanted her to be more of a little slut. It was hard to say.

SMACK.

Cindy couldn’t help herself—she let out a loud, long moan as the pain spread throughout her body. Her ass was on fire. Her pussy was on fire, too, in a different way.

She wanted more.

SMACK.

Cindy was panting heavily, moaning loudly. To an outside observer, her heaving sighs could have been a cry of pain.

SMACK.

“I’m gonna cum!” she gasped, horrified at her own reaction. Her entire body began twitching and convulsing as she felt her orgasm beginning to crescendo. She’d never cum without touching herself before—she hadn’t known it was possible.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

Whether it was to punish her for slutty behavior or to bring on her orgasm even faster, Cindy’s mother doubled her efforts, her hand raining down on her teenage daughter’s ass. Cindy wanted nothing more than for her mother to rip her thong off, to insert two fingers into her wet, slutty pussy.

But she wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t. All she’d do was spank her, like the nasty slut that she was.

Like the nasty slut her brother had made her into.

Cindy spasmed in orgasm, guttural sounds emerging from her mouth as she shook with pleasure.

“Good girl,” her mother said tenderly, gently stroking her hair. “Good girl.”

After that, Cindy’s mother began overseeing every part of her daughter’s life. Cindy again found herself responsible for every chore in the house—but now, her mother would check her work. If so much as a glass pane was smudged, she’d pull Cindy across her lap and spank her to orgasm.

When she found her daughter’s French Maid outfit, she insisted that she begin to wear it as she took care of the household cleaning, cooking, gardening—if it needed to be done, Cindy was doing it under her mother’s direct supervision.

She even started coming into Cindy’s work and critiquing how she flirted with the customers, or telling her to watch her posture as she served. They’d run drills at home—Cindy would serve her mother the food she’d spent several hours cooking, and if her service (or the food) wasn’t good enough, her mother would throw it onto the floor and make her lick it up.

Cindy would be throbbing with pleasure by the time the house was spotless again.

Her manager loved her mother’s visits. On days when her mother came in, she knew that she’d be staying behind for at least ninety minutes after her shift end. He even tossed around the idea of having her train some of the other girls—Cindy took a perverse pride in knowing that she was quickly becoming the restaurant’s highest-earner.

She would have blown the customers if it meant more money for her brother.

Every day, Cindy focused on obeying her mother—she wasn’t Alex, of course, but she was a strong figure who gave her clear, direct instructions, and punished her if she didn’t meet a high standard. It was everything she’d ever wanted.